


I Put A Spell On You

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Transformation, Body Swap, Bottom Dean, Canon Universe, Characters turned into women, Cockblock Sam, Conjoined Brothers, Curses, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Humor, Fuck Or Die, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magical Accidents, Post-Season/Series 12, Sam is an Actual Moose, Top Castiel, Truth Spells, except crowley sorry fergus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 07:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12127902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: Dean and Castiel are still trying to figure their relationship out in the wake of another brush with death. When a curse gets loose in the bunker that sees Dean and Sam transformed and into all manner of things, from animals to each other and even conjoined, dealing with their emotions might be the only chance to save them. With a bit of help from a witch, of course.





	1. Outside the Box

**Author's Note:**

> I had way to much fun getting ridiculous with this fic. Thanks to the mods at the [DeanCas tropefest](http://deancastropefest.tumblr.com/) for their hard work. Please enjoy this utter ridiculousness. I'm sure this is EXACTLY how season 13 will go.

 

** Now **

It’s not the smell that’s getting to Castiel, but the noise. He has never in his long existence heard so much…yowling. At least, not for such a prolonged period of time. Add that to the braying (the closest term he can find for the sound Sam is making), the confined quarters and Dean’s liberal use of his claws and their already horrible situation has become a new kind of torture. The noise only increases when a polite knock sounds on the bunker’s iron door.

“That should be Rowena. I’ll get it,” Castiel explains and is met with a glare and a twitch of tail. “Please don’t try to get out. Again.”

Castiel climbs the stairs to allow the witch in, his steps heavy and exhausted from the turmoil of the last twenty-four hours. The second the door opens, a blur of orange fur darts between his legs. “Dean, no!”

“Dean?” Rowena asks, laughter in her voice. By some magic (possibly in the most literal sense) Rowena has managed to snag the hissing, writhing hunter by the scruff of his neck. Rowena holds up the cat that was up until fourteen hours ago the deadliest hunter in the world and examines him. Dean’s eyes are still a striking green that stands out against his soft orange and white fur as Rowena peers into them. “Castiel, darling, when I called the Winchesters your pets, I never thought it would end up being so literal.”

“As I told you on the phone, we have a situation.” Castiel takes Dean from the witch, and he settles easily into the crook of his arm, flexing his claws against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. “Dean, what have I said about using me as a scratching post?” Dean meows petulantly but stops. “Thank you.”

“What a precious, wee puss you make, Dean! I always knew you were a ginger at heart.” Rowena coos, reaching to scratch under Dean’s chin. Dean gives a surly hiss and bats his claws at Rowena’s hand without much effect.

“Be nice, she’s here to help,” Castiel admonishes. It turns out that when cats try to roll their eyes they only succeed in looking cross-eyed.

“And I have much nicer nails than your angel.”

Dean lifts his chin just enough to let Rowena get a few scratches in.

“He likes it behind his ears as well.”

Dean meows in offence.

“Well, you do.”

“Some things don’t change, I see,” Rowena says, looking between them. “So, it seems some magic has gotten away from you, my dears.”

“Can you help me fix them?” Castiel asks, trying to keep the desperate note out of his voice and failing.

“Them? Is Sam affected too?”

“Follow me, please,” Castiel sighs, absently scratching behind Dean’s ears as they descend the stairs to the war room and the library comes in sight. Rowena gives a yelp as the eight-foot-tall animal taking up the center of the room gives a long, mournful howl and shakes his massive antlers.  “The magic we’re dealing with seem to have…a sense of humor.”

Before today Castiel would never have thought it possible for a moose to scowl.

“Oh, I wish Fergus were alive to see this.”

Dean jumps from Castiel’s hands and pads towards Sam. He scales his brother easily, which Sam complains about (loudly), and perches smugly between Sam’s antlers. Dean gives a high ‘meow’ and Sam stomps his hoof.

“Dean, I’ve told you, Sam does not think this is funny.”

“Sam is wrong,” Rowena says, just as the phone she’s pulled from nowhere makes a sound to signal a picture has been taken.

“Rowena…”

“Posterity, dear. Now, would you mind explaining how you got yourselves into this mess.”

 

** Then: 18 Hours Earlier **

 

Castiel looks around “his room” and sighs. This is home now. For good. He takes a seat on his bed and the stiff mattress groans and creaks. Dean had been very clear in his instructions to ‘settle the fuck in,’ when they arrived back at the bunker yesterday. It had been a long, very stressful journey from Washington, so Castiel hadn’t bothered to ask what Dean expected him to do now that they were home. In general, it seemed like Dean had avoided looking at him at all since the lake. Castiel for his part had found himself unable to say much to the hunter either.

As far as Castiel could tell, Dean wasn’t angry, not really. He seemed happy to have Castiel back alive, in his own way. Castiel appreciated the sentiment, however poorly worded, that if he 'ever pulled any more of that running off and dying crap again' Dean would 'kick his ass in every dimension he could find.' It was nice to be wanted, at least a bit, and gratifying to know that his faith in Jack had been rewarded with not only a fourth resurrection but the return of Mary Winchester to this plane and the containment of Lucifer. He will try to focus on that and not the reams left unsaid. Other prayers left unanswered.

Still, it feels strange to sit on a bed in which he won’t need and organize his scant possession in a room he’s barely used. The only reason to even try is the possibility of making Dean happy. If only Dean were happy about more than just having Castiel alive and present. Or happy enough to talk about where they stand now. Or talk at all. That might be asking too much. And it’s not like his dying changed anything. They’d been through that a comical number of times and it never mattered then either. Dean is his friend, his best friend, and he wants Castiel to stay because of that. He’s told Cas again and again he’s family, as if that makes up for everything. So he’ll try.

Castiel rises, removes his coat and hangs it carefully on the back of his chair. He follows that with his suit jacket (after removing the cassette from Dean and a faded picture of the Winchesters from his pocket) and places his tie in the closet. The picture and mixtape both take a place of honor on the bare desk. He places his phone neatly beside them and plugs it in to charge. His angel blade is the last to be placed. He stores it on a shelf, out of view. There’s nothing quite like having a weapon shoved through your heart to make the sight of it disquieting. And that’s it.

He needs more things.

“Hey, Cas…whoa.” Castiel looks up to see Dean in the doorway, his features soft and surprised. “You’re naked.”

Castiel looks down at himself. His clothes are still intact. “This isn’t…oh. That was a bad joke.”

“That was a great joke, come on.” Dean waits for Castiel to smile or laugh but he just suppresses a sigh and looks around the room.

“You said to settle in,” he tells Dean. “I don’t have much to unpack.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Dean looks Cas up and down again, licking his lips unconsciously. Or at least Castiel assumes that it’s unconscious. As usual. “Maybe was can take you shopping. Finally buy you a new outfit.”

“I can keep my clothes clean with grace so I don’t need…” Castiel stops himself from arguing. It’s the thought that counts and maybe Dean has a point. There’s something to be said for variety, or so he’s heard, and it’s not like these clothes have been very lucky for him.

“And anyway, I think I’m gonna hide that thing,” Dean says, nodding towards Castiel’s coat. “Or burn it.”

“Why?”

“Well, the giant stabby hole, for one. Not a great reminder.” Dean’s voice is darker than Castiel would have expected. Castiel hadn’t even considered the hole, but looking at it now is…disconcerting.

“I could repair it. I'm fond of my coat.”

“Hence the hiding. You don’t go anywhere without it and so if you can’t find it, you can’t go anywhere.” Dean grins, somewhat strained, but pleased with this plan.

“I wouldn’t be very much use to you that way,” Castiel says, looking away.

“Hey. That’s not what I care about, Cas.”  When Dean says things like that, with that strangely warm, fervent look in his eyes that Castiel can’t help looking at, it’s especially hard to keep his feelings and hope in check. Dean steps into Castiel’s room, coming too close for propriety and making Castiel's heart rate rise. “And you know I’m kidding, right?”

“You do make it hard to tell sometimes.”  Castiel doesn’t quite know what else to say. He has in the past, the very recent, past ‘laid it all on the line’ for Dean and not received much in return. A confession of love on one's death bed would have been enough for most, if his pop culture download is any indication, but not for Dean. Therefore any further attempt to share feelings was likely futile. Of course Castiel is no stranger to futile causes. “I still…need to be useful.”

“I… _we_ don’t care if you never do another useful thing ever again, Cas, come on,” Dean says quietly.

It’s another nice sentiment, one he doubts the truth of, but still nice. The kindness of it and the seeking, shy look in Dean’s eyes makes Castiel brave though. Even if the answer isn’t one he wants, it might be good to have it. “What do you care about?”

Dean stares at him, pain and panic flitting over his face. It’s a familiar look, his lips parted and his eyes wide as if thoughts are battling to become words and not quite winning. The look was the first thing he saw when he’d been resurrected, before Sam had been the first one to pull him into a hug. Dean had followed suit and held Cas tight and long, and when he’d let go, the look was gone. Just like now. Dean takes a deep breath. “You. You’re family, Cas.”

It reminds Castiel very much of being stabbed.

“Of course.” It’s not the response Dean wants, he knows that, but he doesn’t know what else to say or what else he was expecting.

“Is that bad? Cas, I know I’m sort of a jackass, some of the time,” Dean goes on, perhaps discerning that Castiel is still not at ease. His selective perceptiveness is infuriating sometimes. “Okay, a lot of the time. But you gotta know that…back at the lake…when you…”

“Hey, you guys ready?” Castiel and Dean both turn to Sam, and the younger Winchester grimaces at the twin looks of supreme annoyance. “Oh. Man, uh…Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, Sam,” Castiel sighs. He doesn’t want to know, he reaffirms to himself. It’s better this way. His arm brushes Dean’s as he moves past him out of the room. It was intentional, but Dean won’t think that. The stolen touch will be a nice memory to return to later when Castiel comes back to his empty room. Better to think about that than all the walls in between him and the maddening human he loves with every atom of his being.

The war room is still a disaster area when the three of them enter, rubble sitting in piles with books, chairs and tools still strewn about. The bodies and bloodstains are gone, and the library is fine, but there is work to do. It will be a very nice distraction.

“I still can’t believe you used a grenade on the wall,” Castiel mutters as he surveys the hole. “And that I missed seeing it.”

“It was fucking awesome,” Dean grins. “Next time we use it, maybe I’ll let you try.”

Now he knows Dean is sucking up. “As long as it’s not inside.”

“I can’t believe you can’t mojo this better,” Sam sighs, coming to stand beside them.

Dean sends his brother an annoyed look and Castiel scowls. “My powers, as they are now, are…limited. Especially since–”

Dean bristles and shakes his head. “Yeah, Sam. Give the guy a break he’s recovering.”

“And we couldn’t ask the super kid to help?” Sam asks.

“I think the child of Lucifer capable of resurrecting angels and piercing through realities is better off away from the enormous trove of occult knowledge and objects, don’t you?” Castiel replies. Jack is remarkable, and powerful, but he’s still too new to the world to trouble with matters like this or to be trusted near so much ammunition.

“Mom and Jody have enough to deal with on Jack’s side of things,” Dean adds and claps his hands together. “And come on, a little hard work never killed anyone.”

“Actually, exhaustion from forced labor has killed-” Castiel stops himself as the Winchesters gape at him. “Never mind. I can still help with the large rubble.”

“That’s my Cas,” Dean says as Castiel strides away. “Our Cas, I mean. _Our_ Cas.” Castiel rolls his eyes out of sight and notices Sam doing the same.

The work isn’t so bad. Castiel clears the largest pieces of concrete easily. He even rolls up his sleeves, which Dean finds amusing. Sam and Dean keep up with the medium pieces and in little time the mess is half cleared. The work involves the Winchesters removing their outer layers, a rare sight, as well as them sweating and bending over a great deal and there are certainly worse views to enjoy for an afternoon. Castiel only notices Sam noticing him noticing Dean once and he shrugs it off. Maybe dying again has made him a bit bolder, or as Dean might put it, less inclined to give a fuck.

Castiel returns from disposing of the last large piece to see Dean in whispered conversation with his brother while said brother prevents Dean from taking a broom from him.

“…why are you being weird?” Sam is asking, tugging on the broom Dean won’t let go of.

“I’m not being weird!” Dean hisses. “What the hell?”

“You and Cas have been dancing around each other for days. You don’t think I noticed?” Sam says, yanking the broom out of Dean’s hands. Castiel feels like he should announce his presence but he too wants to hear Dean’s answer.

“Shut up,” Dean says. “Cas and I are fine.”

“You do not go from sobbing over a guy’s dead body and yelling at God and Lucifer’s kid to bring him back to being just _fine_ , Dean.”

Well, that isn’t the version of the story Castiel had heard. He’d had been disconcerted to say the least upon his return to life and hadn’t asked questions. The hug Dean had given him had nearly broken his ribs but there had been other issues to attend to after, namely Jack and saving Mary.

“I was not sobbing,” Dean grumbles in the way that indicates he very much was doing just as Sam said.  

“Whatever, but you need to talk to him,” Sam pushes.

“About what?” Dean turns away from his brother, shoulders braced defensively.

“Seriously, you’re going to make me say it?”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean mutters and Castiel has heard enough. “For your goddamn information I was trying to-”

Castiel makes as much noise as possible as he fully reenters the room. “Are there anymore large pieces?” he asks loudly, even knowing the answer.

“Nah, we can start on actual cleaning now,” Sam replies. Dean avoids Castiel’s eyes and bends over to push some shattered concrete into a trash can. If Castiel spends one more extra moment enjoying the view, no one needs to know.

“Hey, what hell is this?” Dean asks, jolting Castiel from his reverie. Dean straightens up, holding a small object about the size of his palm. “It looks like it was buried in the wall.”

“Which means you probably shouldn’t touch it,” Sam warns before Castiel can do the same.

“It’s wood, got some runes on it I think…” Dean goes on, ignoring his brother. He blows the dust from the object and examines it carefully.

“Dean, Sam is right, be careful,” Castiel says to no avail. “I doubt the Men of Letters would have encased something non-dangerous in concrete.”

“I think it’s Gaelic,” Dean mutters. Sam heaves a sigh and strides to Dean.

“I think you need to not touch the mysterious magic thing,” Sam grabs for the object – a box it looks like – but Dean snatches it away. “Seriously, Dean?”

“What? Go find your own magic box,” Dean says then snickers. “And stop bossing me around.”

“What are you, twelve? Dean, put it down,” Sam growls.

“No,” Dean snaps as Castiel catches another glimpse of the box.

“Oh no. Dean those runes are–” Castiel starts.

“Dean!” Sam makes another grab for the box as Castiel darts towards the brothers, heart racing.

“Hey!” Dean yells as Sam wrests the box out of his hand. Dean scrambles after it, knocking it from Sam’s grip and into the air, Castiel grabs for it but it’s too late. The little box falls to the floor. And pops open.

The explosion is minor, but still strong enough to knock Castiel off his feet and several meters back. The purple smoke that fills the war room stings Castiel’s nose and lungs with the tang of old, powerful magic. He coughs, waving away the dust as he stands. He’s can’t sense any injuries to his body, but he can feel strong echoes of power in the air where the Winchesters lie.

“Ow, fuck…” A high voice groans.

“I told you not to…what the fuck is wrong with my voice?” Castiel’s eyes go wide as the smoke clears to reveal two lovely women with familiar eyes and clothes.

“Oh no,” Castiel sighs.


	2. Pussy Riot

** Now **

“They were turned into _women_?” Rowena asks, taking a sip of tea. Castiel has no idea where the tea came from, or her delicate, hand-painted tea cup. Dean gives a quiet mew from where he has curled himself in Castiel’s lap.

“Yes, it was extremely disconcerting for them,” Castiel replies. “Perhaps Dean should have _listened_ when he was told not to touch the dangerous magical object.”

Dean gives a petulant hiss in reply and shifts so that Castiel is forced to rub his stomach.

“How did they go from ladies to…” Rowena gestures to where Sam has made himself comfortable on the floor of the library, his antlers casting lovely shadows on the tile. “This?”

Dean raises his head from Castiel’s knee and mews playfully.

“Dean, I am not making that joke, it’s extremely inappropriate,” Castiel says.

“You can understand him?”

“Not really, I just know exactly what he would say right now regarding female anatomy and his current species."

Dean gives little growl of displeasure and flops back into position on Castiel’s legs.

“Well, please go on," Rowena says.

 

 

** Then **

 

“Holy crap,” Sam says. His voice is high and bright and he grabs at his throat then looks down at his very female body. “ _Holy crap_.”

“Haha, Sam, you’re a…fuck!” Dean yelps, grabbing at his body for anatomy that has been added and subtracted. “Whoa.”

“It seems as if _not_ touching the dangerous cursed object was good advice.” Castiel grabs the box from the floor and snaps it closed. A purple wisp of magic puffs from the hinges but nothing else happens. When Castiel looks up to Dean, his hands are still on his newly acquired breasts, which he is massaging in fascination.

“Dean, come on,” Sam sighs, managing to sound just as put upon in his new voice as his old one.

“What? This is interesting!” Dean says. “I’m not a dog, or Dory, this is like the best curse ever.”

“It’s still a curse that we’re under because of you!” Sam snaps.

Dean ignores his brother and turns to Castiel with a wide grin. “So, am I hot?” Dean asks and Sam nearly falls over sighing in annoyance. “I bet I’m hot. These are amazing.” He is of course referring to the breasts he’s grabbing again.

“You are…” Castiel bites back the answer, since it would only encourage Dean at this point. His (or her? No, Castiel will stay with his since Dean still is, as himself, a man) face is still peppered with freckles, lips still full, eyes still wide and green. Everything is just softer by a few degrees. His hair falls to his shoulders and for once, Castiel is looking down into those green eyes. He’s still extremely attractive and notices that Cas is staring. The smile Dean gives him is not at all helpful.

“I’m totally hot, aren’t I?” Dean smiles and not for the first time that day Castiel considers punching him.

“Guys.”

They look up at Sam. “How are you still the tallest?” Dean groans.

“Let’s try to focus on…fixing this,” Sam says, shifting awkwardly and staring at his hands.

“Your hair is the same,” Dean chuckles, pointing.

“ _Dean_.”

“You’re under a curse, Dean,” Castiel says, trying to keep his voice even. “You should be more worried. You don’t know what did this or how or what it means or-”

“This is like a two on the panic level, come on,” Dean scoffs, except in his new female voice is sounds more like a giggle.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam whines. “We have to fix this immediately.”

“Come on, we ain’t dying right now, so I am checking out the landscape before we do anything.” With that Dean bounds away.

“Dean! We don’t…damnit.” Sam heaves a sigh and tangles his hands into his hair.

“Well, this day going well,” Castiel mutters.

“Dean’s got a point, no one’s dead yet, so it’s still a win in our book.”

Castiel casts an annoyed glance at Sam but the hunter doesn’t see it. He’s too busy peeking down his now very loosely fitting shirt. “Give us time.”

“Do you think we should call Mom?” Sam muses absently. "bet she always wants a daughter."

“You do look much more like her in this gender,” Castiel remarks. Though Sam’s hair is still much darker.

“Good point. She’s busy,” Sam grimaces. “Maybe Rowena? She does owe us for the whole, back from the dead thing.” Sam pokes experimentally at his chest.

“She owes Jack for that, not us. But she would be the best resource,” Castiel says. The return of the witch to her restored body (her spirit having left it long before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on her) by Jack was another on the long list of things they had to be thankful for. “And she’s closer than your mother.”

“Yeah, who knew there was a coven in Topeka? But we should probably try to figure it out ourselves first; just a curse right?” Sam goes on. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Hey, Sam where’s my phone charger! I need pictures of this!” Dean yells from far off.

“On second thought, maybe we should fix this before he finds a webcam,” Sam says, matching Castiel’s eyeroll.

“I’m going to go retrieve him before he does something stupid,” Castiel says tiredly. Sam gives him a dry look. “Something else stupid.”

“Thanks,” Sam says. Castiel heads towards the rooms, but not before seeing Sam’s hand drift towards his pants.

Castiel composes himself outside Dean’s door, pushing down his annoyance and built up feelings to deal with the issue at hand. As usual. “Dean, are you…decent?” Castiel asks as he knocks.

“No, but you can come in.” Castiel hears the camera shutter sound on Dean’s phone.

“Dean,” Castiel says impatiently.

“Cas, you’ve seen my soul, I don’t care if you see my temporary tits.”

Castiel braces himself and opens the door. Thankfully Dean at least still has pants on, though they’re hanging very low as he admires himself shirtless in the mirror. It is only thanks to years of practice and the fact his attraction is to Dean, not his body specifically, that Cas keeps his composure. It’s still extremely difficult to see Dean, no matter his form, half naked in front of him. The annoyance helps dampen the arousal at least.

“Dean, we should really be working on fixing this not…doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I gotta get a tighter shirt or find a bra or something…” Dean mutters, fondling himself again and ignoring Castiel. That’s for the best since he looks a little too long at Dean’s hands on his chest. It is…aesthetically pleasing. “They’re nice, right?”

Castiel’s eyes shoot back up to Dean’s face, his cheeks heating. “What? I…”

“Dude, no judgement.” Dean’s smile is exactly the same no matter what gender his body is and it only makes Castiel’s blush deepen. Dean is still Dean no matter what.

“Put your shirt back on,” Castiel orders and Dean complies with a roll of his eyes.

“Really do need a bra, these things are flopping all over the place.”

“There might be one in your mother’s room.”

“Ew, oh my God, no.” Castiel almost laughs at the look of complete disgust on Dean’s face.

“All the more reason to fix you sooner.”

“Really? We don’t have to totally rush, right?” Dean pouts.

“You want to stay this way?” Castiel doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“No! It’s just…this is interesting, okay? I’m only going to get this chance once. Well, probably. Knowing us…” Dean blushes more deeply as a female than as a male and it is, Castiel must admit, very charming. “I kinda wanna take me out for a spin.”

“What?” Castiel’s warm thoughts come screeching to a halt.

“You know, see what it’s like walking a mile in these shoes, for science and feminism and shit.” Castiel sincerely doubts that, and the idea makes his stomach uncomfortably tie in knots.

“You’ll be hit on, condescended to, objectified, and threatened by most men you meet; and the men and women will often ignore you as if you didn’t speak at all.”

Dean turns to Castiel, delicate brows knit in confusion. “And you know this how?”

“General experience with the world. But I also did occupy a female vessel.”

“You were in Claire for like, a second.”

“Not Claire.” Dean raises a delicate eyebrow as he retrieves a shirt and thankfully pulls it on. “Her name was Christine. Jimmy was one of her descendants. She allowed me to occupy her during the incident with…Lily.”

“Whoa.” Dean’s face is unreadable. “I uh…It’s just, uh, hard to imagine you as, you know, not you.”

“You do understand the irony of you saying that in your current predicament,” Castiel says as Dean looks back down at his changed body.

“Yeah, well…” Dean shrugs. “What can I say, I’m attached to you.”

Any other day such a confession would have made Castiel smile for an hour. Now everything is just confusion. “What you see when you look at me…” Castiel doesn’t really want to get into this right now, but at least he’s distracted Dean from more groping. “It is me. I feel…at home here but, I have been…others.”

“Yeah, sure I just…” Dean swallows. The action looks coyer in this body. “Thinking about if you had shown up all those years ago in a girl. Maybe things could have been...” The blush returns and Castiel tries to make that sentiment not mean what he thinks and wants it to mean. It can’t be. Dean doesn't think of him that way and that's the main problem. “Like, were you cute?”

“What?” Of course Dean asks that. Of course his preoccupation with human gender and labels comes up now. Of course. “I…Dean, that is not the point.”

Dean hold up his (surprisingly small) hands in surrender at the annoyance that must be evident in Castiel’s eyes.  

“Sorry, just curious,” Dean mutters. “And I bet I'm cuter now so-"

"Please stop."

"So, okay. Being a chick sucks. I still want to, you know, try stuff out. Can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Try stuff…” Castiel stares at Dean, who gives a shrug and a lascivious grin. “Are you talking about sex?”

“Well…”

“With some random…” Castiel can barely spit out the words. “ _Stranger_?”

“I do that all the time!”

“Yes, I know!” Castiel snaps and Dean recoils. “Sam says it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism to make up for your lack of emotional intimacy-”

“He what?!”

“But…you’re talking about sex with…” Castiel shakes his head. “With _men_?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few long seconds, a hundred thoughts Castiel can’t even begin to imagine flitting over his transformed features. “I…well…I…” Dean takes a deep breath. “Yeah. That was what I was talking about.”

Castiel groans and tangles his hands in his hair. He had never heard about angels getting headaches before he met Dean Winchester. “Dean, I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s not a big thing!” Dean’s trying to play it off as casual and Castiel is very close to throttling him. “And, uh, maybe it doesn’t have to be some rando! Hey,” Dean swats Castiel on the shoulder. “You’re right here!”

Castiel actually feels his heart stop. Literally. The shock is so much that he ceases controlling his vessel for several seconds.

“…what?”

“Uh…” Dean goes from red to pale in an instant.

“Did you just…” Castiel sputters. He can’t comprehend what Dean just let slip even in comparison to everything else. He can’t understand anything that has happened in the last hour.

“I…” Dean’s mouth opens and closes. “Or not. Or…I mean…You’re hot and…Well, you were just talking about how you were fluid or whatever…and I was thinking….”

 “You are _unbelievable_.” Castiel huffs and turns on his heel. Of all the situations that the offer of something physical from Dean would come it would be this. And it’s a joke to Dean, another notch on his belt.

“Cas, come on!” Dean yells, running after him. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

"Yes, you did."

"I'll totally respect you in the morning!" Another joke. Perfect.

“Dean, stop talking,” Castiel snaps, rounding on Dean. “This is not the way I want to have this conversation.”

“Conversation?” There’s something very vulnerable about Dean’s face as a female, and with his voice higher and lighter. He’s so small and if Castiel didn’t want to strangle him right now he would feel the urge to protect him. “Cas, I was…Do we need to have a conversation?”

“We’ve needed to have a conversation since I came back.” Castiel bites his lips before adding that they have needed to have a conversation for several years. “We can talk once this is…solved. Not like this.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head so that his long hair falls in his face. “Cas, I know I’ve-”

“What are you two doing?” Sam’s voice cuts in.

Perfect, now Castiel wants to kill both Winchesters. At least it’s symmetrical.

“Nothing,” Castiel answers, voice clipped. “We’ll need some grimoires to deal with this. There are many types of curses that can transform the victims, but they usually have a deeper purpose.”

“How are you sure this is a curse?” Dean asks, rushing after Castiel back to the war room.

“That thing you found and very stupidly touched was a curse box, it’s a crude way of dealing with magic that removes the curse, quarantines it, rather than actually breaking it.” Castiel explains. “I assume that’s what the Men of Letters did here and then attempted to protect themselves by burying it.”

“So, they put their problem in a box and never actually solved it?” Sam muses, half smiling.

“Well, some humans deal with a lot of things that way, I’ve found,” Castiel says and Dean turns slowly to glower at him. “Yes. I was referring to you.”

“Are you guys okay?” Sam asks uneasily.

“We’re fine,” Castiel and Dean say at the same time, both unconvincing.

“Where’s the box? I want to look at it, again. Maybe there’s a clue in the runes or something,” Dean says.

“I think I should look, in case there’s more to the curse than…this,” Castiel gestures to the Winchesters.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam says. “My lovely sister and I will get the books.”

“Shut up, Samantha.”

“After you, Deana.”

The box is unhelpful. The runes on the outside are protective, but also very damaged from the explosion that freed the curse. After an hour of research and quietly simmering annoyance, they’re no closer to figuring out what kind of curse could have done this.

Dean returns from a trip to the bathroom and retakes his seat at the table with a sigh. “Well, that was boring.”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam groans, glaring at Dean over several tomes on curse removal and resolution.

“Any luck?” Dean asks. “Maybe we can just do what the old guys did and suck the curse out without breaking it?”

“The curse box only works once,” Castiel replies. “Once the curse is out, there’s no way of putting it back in.” Castiel looks pointedly at Dean. His scowl is unchanged in this form.

“So, we could be stuck this way for a while,” Sam says.

“Which would apparently be disappointing, for some people,” Dean adds, still glaring.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asks, not sure if he’s angry or offended. “I objected to you treating this as yet another excuse for pointless debauchery.”

“Pointless?” Dean sputters. “I was trying fix things and you fucking rejected me!”

“What?” Castiel has no idea how Dean reached _that_ conclusion. “Dean, I don’t care what you look like, it’s how you act that’s…” He has no idea how to express the depth and breadth of his feelings on this. From discovering Dean was more moved by Castiel’s death than he expected to being propositioned, everything is swirling in confusion.

“Annoying?” Dean suggests.

“Guys…” Sam’s voice is tight and worried.

“Concerning. Frustrating. Hurtful. Take your pick,” Cas pushes on. “You treat some things so casually and then you won’t-”

“Guys,” Sam says again.

“Won’t what? Have a heart to heart? It’s kinda hard to do that when you won’t stay somewhere long enough to—”

“Guys!” Sam yells. Castiel and Dean look up in time to see the curse box lift off the table, floating on a cloud of purple magic.

“What did you do?” Dean demands.

“I didn’t—” Sam’s protest is cut off by a crackling explosion of magic that fills the room with smoke and light. Castiel dives to shield Dean but it’s too late, the hunter is gone.

Or so Castiel thinks for a few seconds as the smoke clears. An irate hiss comes from beneath him and razor sharp claws dig into his leg. Castiel scrambles up and off the furious cat that is struggling out of Dean’s shirt. A cat with extremely familiar green eyes.

“Dean?” Castiel asks the animal in horror as he waves the smoke away from his face. The cat gives a mournful meow in reply. “Where is…”

A low, guttural sound halfway between a howl and a roar, comes from behind Castiel as he turns to see what the younger Winchester has become.

“I’m calling Rowena,” Castiel tells the moose in front of him.

 

** Now **

“Well then, that is a quite a tale,” Rowena says, sipping her tea. “Or quite a tail, should I say, eh puss?” She pinches at Dean’s tail and he hisses at her.

“Can you help?” Castiel asks. Dealing with the transformed Winchesters had been extremely exhausting, even for an angel. Between keeping Dean in the bunker and keeping him and Sam from destroying most of its contents he’s nearly losing his mind. At least it was easier than talking with Dean about feelings and ever evolving concepts of sexuality. But only by a shade. “I never thought I would be using my grace to clean up moose dung.”

“Oh, Samuel…” Rowena tsks and the moose hides his face, or at least tries to. “I do know a thing or two about getting back into a body. I think I can be of some assistance. May I see the box?”

Castiel has to maneuver carefully to retrieve the box from the table without dislodging Dean from his lap. He hands it to Rowena and Dean resituates himself. “I wish you wouldn’t knead your claws in my leg.”

“Quite the affectionate one you have here,” Rowena says as she examines the box.

“I think he’s trying to win favor after some…arguments we’ve had.” Dean’s fur bristles but he doesn’t move. “Or he wants more tuna.”

Rowena raises a perfect eyebrow then returns to her examination of the box. “Ach, as I thought. Primitive, clumsy magic, the kind I would expect from _men_ who have no idea how to work these things.” Sam gives an offended bray. “Oh, I didn’t mean you, dear Samuel. Let me see what I can do. May I get a closer look your lovely friend here.”

Dean looks up to Castiel for reassurance. “She’ll help,” Castiel tells him and Dean gives an annoyed growl.

“Maybe I’ll start with the moose first,” Rowena says.

It takes Rowena the better part of thirty minutes to examine Sam and the books they have out, during which time Dean knocks several cups, pens and one large grimoire off the table and Sam gets stuck between bookshelves again. Rowena only gets one scratch from Dean when she attempts to pick him up while he’s enjoying some tuna.

“Dean, be nice,” Castiel orders. The cat glares at Rowena as she flicks her wrist and magic swirls around him, first red then the same purple from before.

“Ah, yes, this magic is very familiar,” Rowena says finally. “A witch I knew from the old world.  Her name was Selene. And she did have quite a sense of humor, which mixed badly with the fact she was a spiteful old bat. She had a rather complicated relationship with the Men of Letters, which may be a clue to this curse’s purpose.”

“What does that mean?” Castiel asks as Dean mewls.

“It’s why the Men of Letters had to contain it, rather than break it. It has to work itself through before it’s done. Obviously, they didn’t like the results.”

Castiel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And the purpose of the curse is?”

“Not quite sure yet, but, I do have a theory.” Without ceremony Rowena plucks Dean from the table and plops him onto Castiel. “You said that before they went from women to animals that you were squabbling.” Dean mews in protest of the characterization.

“I said we were having a disagreement.”

“About?” Castiel avoids Rowena’s eyes. He had been deliberately hazy with those details when relaying the story.  

“About Dean…propositioning me while he was a woman,” Castiel grumbles and Rowena’s eyes go wide. “Among other things,” he adds over Dean’s offended hiss.

“Such as your failures to express your true feelings?” Rowena asks cheerfully. Dean yowls. Among the bookshelves Sam whinnies. “And I do mean both of you.”

“That was one issue. However, it’s clear that there’s nothing to talk about for some people.” That gets another hiss and Dean bats his paw at Castiel’s chin.

“Interesting. And if Dean couldn’t ever talk about it, ever again?” Rowena says carefully. “How would that make you feel?”

“Some would consider it an improvement,” Castiel mutters and Dean digs his claws into his shirt.

“Come, come, let’s not be testy,” Rowena chides. “If Dean was stuck this way forever, what would you do?”

Dean settles his paws on Castiel’s chest and glares him directly in the eye in a challenge. Castiel takes a deep breath. “As I said before, in as many words. Neither his form or complete inability to communicate would matter, as long as it was Dean. I’d stay with him.”

“As I thought,” Rowena says with a smile. Castiel looks up and follows her attention to the box, which is floating and glowing again.

“Oh, wonderful,” Castiel mutters.

“Hold on.”


	3. A Mile in his Shoes

Castiel’s head is ringing as he stands from where the magic has knocked him on the floor. He offers a hand to Rowena and she delicately coughs out the smoke.

“Oi, that was a proper boom, wasn’t it?” the witch says.

“Fucking ow…” Sam’s voice groans out of sight. It’s the best thing Castiel has heard all day.

“Sam?” Castiel calls.

“Yeah, I’m fine too,” Dean says, standing from behind the table.

“Oh, this is nice,” Rowena coos as it becomes apparent that clothes were not included in the transformation. Castiel’s mouth goes very dry very quickly at the sight of Dean's naked body. As attractive as Dean had been as a women, this is the version of him that Castiel has become attached to…and very attracted to.

“Oh, jeez, Rowena!” Dean yelps, grabbing an ancient spell book to cover up his nether regions.

“What, you shy now?” Sam asks, emerging from behind a shelf. Despite his words, his face fills with shock at the sight of his brother. “ _Sam_?”

“Why are you…” Castiel looks between the two brothers and Rowena breaks into giggles next to him. “No.”

“Sam! Get the hell out of my body!” Dean (he thinks it’s Dean, this is very confusing) bellows, striding right towards the witch and unbothered that he is displaying _all_ of Sam’s body. “Rowena, I swear to God, if this is some sick joke.”

“Oh no, love, no jokes here,” Rowena grins, taking a long look over Dean-in-Sam in front of her and licking her lips. Castiel has run out of sighs at this point.

“Dean!” Sam yelps. “Cover me up before she gets ideas.”

“Oh, pish, Samuel, I’m just duly impressed,” Rowena purrs. “And I’ve had ideas for a long while. A very _long_ while.”

Sam gives a growl of disapproval with Dean’s voice and Dean rolls Sam’s eyes with a grimace. “Ew.”

“Well, maybe Dean will let you take Sam out for a test drive,” Castiel mutters, though not low enough for Dean not to notice. Apparently, Sam has better hearing.

“Are we still having this fight?” Dean asks shortly.

“Well, you _can_ talk now,” Castiel replies.

“Well, I’m not gonna…do anything unseemly in Sam’s body,” Dean grumbles.

“Pity,” Rowena sighs, eyes still raking over Sam’s naked form.

“Someone get me…him…some clothes! Please!” Sam yells, gesturing to Dean and nearly dropping the book that’s protecting one Winchester’s modesty.

“Oh fine,” Rowena huffs. “ _Vestimenta!_ ” Rowena gives a flourish of her fingers and pants appear on both Winchesters. They do seem quite tight though.

“Thank you,” Sam sighs, carefully replacing the book on the table.

“You couldn’t conjure a shirts?” Dean mutters.

“Oh, I could have. But I didn’t,” Rowena smiles. “Don’t you think it’s better this way, Cas, my dear?”

“I have no option on that matter,” Castiel says slowly, keeping an unhealthy amount of rage under control. “Rowena, I thought you said you had a way to _fix_ this.”

“I said I had a theory, not a cure. And they’re at least human; and really, right bodies, flipped minds, almost the same,” Rowena chirps. “And what lovely bodies they are.”

“Dean your _knees_ , holy shit,” Sam groans, staring down at himself. “And I think you might need glasses.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean snaps, rubbing his stomach and then his neck. “Dude you need a new mattress or a massage or something. And are you always this hungry?”

“I just spent 12 hours with antlers!” Sam snipes back. “ _I_ didn’t have an angel feeding me tuna!”

“And whose fault was that?” Dean retorts.

“Yours,” everyone but Dean responds.

“Yeah, well, and right now you’re gonna eat a goddamn triple bacon cheese burger," Dean smirks.

“You’re not eating _anything_ until you’re in your correct bodies again,” Castiel declares, snapping the Winchesters out of the argument.

“Fine,” Sam sighs. “Rowena, we do appreciate your help. However…flawed.” Seeing such contrition in _Dean’s_ face is more disconcerting than anything else Castiel has seen in the last day.

“As I was trying to tell you, this new situation wasn’t my doing, it’s the curse,” Rowena says. “It’s the spell working its way through the tests.”

“Tests?” Dean balks. “How is this testing us? Other than my altitude tolerance.”

“Dean, calm down,” Castiel sighs.

“No!” Dean snaps, his mounting fury is even more worrisome in Sam’s gigantic frame. “I have had tits, fur and now I’m stuck in the jolly green party giant, what the hell is this testing?”

“It’s not testing you, dear.” The three of them turn to the witch, who smiles brightly.

“Okay, why would it be testing…” Sam starts.

“No. Not you either,” Rowena says. “Him.”

The eyes of the room turn towards Castiel. “What the fuck does Cas have to do with this?” Dean asks for all of them. Castiel too is perplexed.

“Well, he did trigger the last two transformations, when he accepted your female form and your…fur,” Rowena explains.

“This isn’t his fault. He’s the only one that hasn’t screwed this up,” Dean growls.

“That’s not what I meant, dear, but it’s interesting you’d say that.” Castiel stares at Rowena. She looks far too smug about something. “Did you touch the curse box?”

“Barely…but, I haven’t transformed.”

Rowena’s smile widens dangerously. “As I said. There are many ways to be tested.”

“That makes very little sense,” Castiel says, feeling extremely uncomfortable with both the scrutiny and the implications.

“Oh, I think it does, but I do need to do a wee bit more research, and I think I saw the right book in your stores on one of my previous visits,” Rowena says. “Samuel, would you be a dear and help me?”

“I…” Sam’s protest is cut off but a swift elbow to the stomach by Rowena. “Fine. I guess we can go find a shirt too.”

“If you insist,” Rowena sighs. She and Sam retreat, a faint complaint regarding Castiel’s failure to acquire Dean a litter box fading into the hall.

“That was an extremely transparent excuse to leave us to talk alone,” Castiel says, looking anywhere but at the face in front of him. He’s still not sure at all of what he’s feeling. As frustrating as having to deal with two animals had been, at least there had been no arguments with Dean as a cat. No half-confessions and missed opportunities either. Now Dean has a voice again and Castiel has no idea what to say beyond words of frustration.

“Yeah, guess they want us to work out our shit,” Dean mutters, Sam’s hair falling in his eyes. “Yeesh, how does this kid see.”

“Well, the superior eyesight probably helps.” Dean glares at him. “You’ll be glad to know, you’ve mastered Sam’s bitchface, as you like to call it.”

“Okay, I get that you’re pissed because of the whole…asking you for sex while I was a chick thing,” Dean says.

“You think that’s why I’m angry?” Castiel shoots back and Dean’s, or rather Sam’s, face falls.

“I know it maybe uh…offended your sensibilities?” Dean tries again.

“Dean, you’re not an idiot, please don’t pretend to be one,” Castiel says tiredly. “And don’t treat me like one.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s talk, like grownups or whatever.” Maybe being in Sam’s body is rubbing off on Dean. It’s more of an effort than Castiel was expecting and is probably worth meeting.

“Or whatever.”

Dean takes a deep breath, avoiding Castiel’s eyes to look down at the floor. “So, I let slip I’d be…into…stuff…”

“With men.”

“And I…”

“Implied sexual interest in me in two different forms.”

“Would you let me talk?” Dean snaps.

“Apologies.”

“And I know that crossed a line, okay?” Dean finally meets Castiel’s eyes, his expression seeking and placating. Castiel considers that there’s something to Dean’s previous claims that Sam is better at talking to witnesses, because the puppy dog eyes _are_ compelling. “I know you don’t want those things.”

How many times in one day will Dean Winchester cause him to feel like he’s been impaled again? “What?”

“You’re an angel, I get that, and you’ve done shit when you were human but now that you're back I know you’re…” Dean stammers with Sam’s voice, cheeks reddening and eyes downcast.

“You think I don’t want you?” Castiel asks softly. Dean looks back up at him, reminding Castiel that having this conversation while Dean is wearing his brother’s face and no shirt is extremely odd, to say the least.

“Why would you?”

Castiel closes his eyes and imagines talking to Dean, his Dean. “Dean, you have to know that I’ve wanted you…like that. For a while,” Castiel confesses quietly. He hears Dean’s soft intake of breath.

“You have?” The words are quiet enough that Castiel can pretend they are in Dean’s real voice.

“Of course. And I know that offends you, or…I thought it would but…” Castiel backtracks.

“Then why the hell do you keep leaving?”

Castiel’s eyes fly open in confusion. “What does that have to do with-”

“Okay, creepy old spell book and shirts, as ordered!” Sam announces. Castiel and Dean jump back from where they’ve drifted close to one another.

“Sammy, I swear to God if you interrupt us one more fucking time!” Dean roars and Sam flinches.

“Dean, calm down,” Castiel entreats.

“No, that’s three freaking times!” Dean bellows, putting on his shirts (because of course he needs seventeen of them) as aggressively as possible. “And this from the guy that wants us to get all Dr. Phil in the first place. You know what. Where are the scissors? I can at least do one useful thing while I’m stuck in here.” Dean turns and runs out of the library, using Sam’s longer legs to his advantage as Sam rushes after him.

“Don’t you dare, Dean!”

Castiel collapses into a chair, kneading his temples. Maybe this _is_ a curse on him as well.

“And what pray tell were we interrupting?” Rowena asks gleefully, taking a seat besides Castiel.

“Nothing,” Castiel answers, more hopeful than honest.

“Really?” A cup of hot tea on a delicate saucer is pushed into Castiel’s hands and he looks up at Rowena’s surprisingly kind face. “Are we sure of that?”

Castiel sighs and takes a sip of tea. It is soothing. “There seems to have been some…misunderstandings, between Dean and I.”

“About your feelings for one another?” Castiel glances at Rowena, who sips her own tea knowingly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Visible from space, my dear.”

“Well, not to Dean,” Castiel sighs. “He was under the impression I had no…physical interest in him. And apparently, he has at least some such interest in…me.”

“What an idiot.” Castiel raises an eyebrow at Rowena as he takes another sip of tea. “Honestly, I knew the poor thing had a few self-esteem issues, but for him to think you weren’t…well, I guess people see what they want.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“Ah, you have no idea,” Rowena groans. “The hours I had to listen to Fergus weeping into his whiskey about Dean Winchester and how he’d picked a bloody angel over a king. It was pathetic.” Castiel can’t help but smile and Rowena returns the expression. “It seems to me that’s there’s a bit more going on for you than just wanting to dip your toe in the Winchester pond. Not that I can blame you.”

From somewhere far off in the bunker comes the sound of a thump then a yell. For some reason it fills Castiel’s heart with affection that eases the confusion and hurt of the last few days.

“Yes, there’s much more to it than that.”

“You love him.”

Castiel turns to Rowena, her slate-blue eyes are kinder than Castiel has ever seen them. “For a very long time,” Castiel says, low and quiet. It’s strangely freeing, finally admitting it out loud.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I did.” Rowena’s eyes widen in interest. “I was dying, months ago, and it just…came out. But then I wasn’t and we didn’t say anything. It’s like it never happened. Then, everything with Kelly and Jack happened and we were fighting again and then I _actually_ died, again, and he still didn’t…say anything.”

“What a right proper boob you’ve fallen for,” Rowena exclaims and Castiel chuckles despite himself. “At least now he’s in the good-looking brother.”

“As long as he’s alive, that’s what matters,” Castiel shrugs. “That’s all that’s ever mattered.”

“Really?” Rowena crosses her legs and leans in to Castiel. “Go on.”

“When Dean Winchester is nothing but atoms strewn across the universe, I will still love him,” Castiel says simply. “I have died. Many times. And I came back again and again, because of him. I loved him even when I wasn’t there.”

“Goodness, that is the sweetest…”

The sound of heavy footsteps running towards them cuts Rowena off. The Winchesters burst back into the library with a crash. Castiel can see the reason for their panic immediately.

“What did you do!?” Sam, no, Dean demands as purple energy swirls around him and Sam.

“Nothing! I –”

“Just as I thought,” Rowena says with a grin. “We should probably take cover.”

Castiel ducks and shields Rowena just in time for the new explosion. Papers and debris fly all around them with the smoke, sparks of magic. Castiel rises slowly, trying to make out Sam and Dean and whatever state they now are in through the clearing fog. He knows he should probably be more worried but at this point he’s not ever surprised.

 “What the hell?” Dean’s voice comes from somewhere in the vicinity of the floor as the magic fades. “Sam, are you…Oh nice. Got my body back.”

“Dude, get off me!” Sam grunts.

“I’m trying! Let go!”

“I’m not – OW!”

“What the-”

“Fuck!” Both brothers exclaim it as they rise awkwardly from the floor, their bodies pressed unnaturally close, almost as if…

“Well this is interesting,” Rowena purrs at she realizes the same thing as Castiel.

The Winchesters are joined at the hip. Literally.

 


	4. Stuck on You

“What _the hell_ is going on?” Sam demands, breathless and furious. “Did you do this?” Sam flails an arm and manages to elbow Dean in the process.

“I see no difference from your normal state,” Rowena says. “Lovely to see such closeness between siblings.”

“Rowena this is not funny!” Dean snaps as Rowena breaks into giggles.

“No, it’s hysterical.”

“I will kill you on principal,” Dean growls. Castiel is happy to see him back in the right species, gender and body, but he can understand his anger.

“Oh, as if that would stick,” Rowena smiles.

“That’s it, she’s not helping, I’m calling Mom!” Sam declares and tries to take a step forward, wrenching Dean along with him.

“We are not calling Mom!” Dean pulls in the other direction. “She’s still getting over getting brainwashed and a vacation to thunder dome!”

“Ow, Dean, that hurts!” Sam’s face is red with anger and the exertion of trying to move with 200 pounds of brotherly dead weight attached to him.

“It won’t hurt if you stop acting like an idiot and stand still!” Dean yells.

“I am not!”

“And bend your goddamn legs, I can barely touch the floor.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short!” Sam huffs and Dean smacks him on the arm.

“I’m not short, you’re a giant freak!”

“Hey!”

“Oh. I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable – OW!” Dean exclaims and Sam tries to hit him back. Unfortunately his right arm is in between their two torsos and Dean can easily hold him down.

“Not fair, Dean!”

“Oh yeah, it’s not fair that you go stuck on the wrong side of the fucking conjoined twin curse! Would you stop…”

Castiel knows he should probably say…something, but he can only gape at the spectacle before him of the two Winchesters attempting to drag each other in different directions and dissolving into a slap fight. Neither of them notice Rowena starting a video recording on phone.

“I’ll email these to you,” Rowena whispers to Castiel.

“Do not pull my hair!” Sam cries.

"Shoulda thought about that before you grew it this long!"

“Dean! Sam!” Castiel bellows loud enough to get at least Dean’s attention.  “Rowena has, I think, discerned what the curse wants,” Castiel explains tensely.

“See,” Dean says. “I told you.” He attempts to turn to Sam to give him a smug look and only ends up spinning them so they nearly topple again.

“You didn’t tell me anything! You’re the reason we’re like this!” Sam huff.

Rowena takes the opportunity to pick up the book she and Sam found and leaf through.

“Do you seriously have to blame me for everything?” Dean demands.

“When it’s your fault, yeah!”

“Ah, yes, here we are,” Rowena declares, ignoring the squabble. “This is a very nice little bit of magic indeed.”

“A nice curse?” Dean repeats, sharing a glare with Sam. “Yeah, getting attached to this moron is real nice. Would you _please_ bend your knees!”

“Would you stop elbowing me!”

“Hey!” Both Winchesters’ attention snaps to Castiel, whose voice had only made the shelves quake a little. “We need to focus and fix this.”

“He started it,” Dean mutters but raises his arms in surrender when Castiel glares at him.

“And that’s hard to do when the two of you are squabbling like children _even more so than usual,_ ” Castiel adds. “So if the two of you would sit down and for once in your lives listen, we can solve this.”

Sam frowns but doesn’t argue, crossing his arms with some difficulty.

“Fine,” Dean grumbles. “Let’s…sit.” Watching the two of them attempt to hobble towards and chair and then fail repeatedly at getting into it is equal parts pathetic and hysterical.

“Jesus, Sam, bend!” Dean orders, shuffling along beside Sam. Or more like limping with only one leg on the ground as they struggle with their chair. They of course cannot fit or coordinate enough to get in and a new fight seems imminent.

“Just, ask, you great, gorgeous morons,” Rowena sighs.

“Rowena, would you please adjust the chair,” Sam asks through gritted teeth.

“My pleasure, Samuel.” Rowena smiles and waves her hand. Two chairs merge into one bench and the Winchesters take a seat, albeit with some difficulty.

“Can we get to the punchline on this thing before one of us has to pee,” Dean grumbles.

“You’re gross, Dean,” Sam says.

“Now, as Castiel here said, I have, I think discerned the purpose and method of this curse,” Rowena explains, pointing to a specific page of the text. “Ah yes. Here is it. A note from Selene. It is a test, as I guessed.”

“A test of what?” Sam and Dean ask in unison.

“Love.”

It’s rather like another explosion has occurred, smaller of course, but Castiel does feel as if the world rocks a little bit.

“Love?” Castiel asks, since Dean and Sam appear to have been shocked into silence.

“Selene was in love with a Man of Letters,” Rowena explains. “It was a torrid affair and ended badly, for her at least, mainly because he was in love with someone else.”

“So, she cursed the chick?” Dean asks, reverting to his regular, gruff demeanor.

“It wasn’t a chick, it was another Man of Letters.” Rowena taps the book in front of her. “See?”

Sam is the first to lean forward, pulling Dean along with him and over-balancing so that the two of the stumble and flail just short of collapsing to the floor. They have to use all four arms to push back up and become resituated. “You did that on purpose,” Sam says, glaring at Rowena.

“Oh yes,” Rowena smiles. “But, as I was saying. Torrid love affair gone wrong, blah blah, she sent the curse to her former lover to test the bond between him and his…beloved.”

“Okay?” Dean says warily.

“She made it so that it would transform her lover – and obviously those around him – to see if his new beloved would still care for him despite his new state. Or states. Once the two made it through her trials, she would give them…hmm, either a blessing or certain death, I’m not sure of this translation. It might be both.”

“That makes no sense!” Dean exclaims and Castiel finally dares to look up at him. He looks pained and hurt and very, very confused. “How would the spell even know _that_  about anyone here?”

“It’s magic, it doesn’t have to make sense,” Rowena offers and Castiel feels distinctly ill. 

“Except it kind of might,” Sam says, turning slowly to look as best he can at Dean, whose lips are pursed as he avoids looking at anyone. “Dean, do you have something to tell the class?”

Dean finally looks at Castiel and it’s as powerful and world-stopping as a hundred looks they’ve shared before. All of them leading to nothing.

 

“Okay, fine, say I’m the ex,” Dean begins slowly. “And Sam is the poor schmo that got caught in the crossfire, there ain't any one here that's fucking _beloved_.”

"Are you sure, Dean? Come on, you can say it," Sam coaxes and Dean smacks him forcefully in the leg.

“He doesn’t have to say anything, Sam,” Castiel says slowly, looking away when the Winchesters have composed themselves. “I believe the spell is tied to _my_ feelings.”

"Y-your feelings?" Dean stammers.

Castiel swallows, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the book and not on Dean or Sam.

“Each time we changed…” Sam begins.

"The pretty one is getting it," Rowena purrs.

“I expressed that I would care for and accept Dean in whatever, form or body he was in,” Castiel explains.

“Oh.” Dean’s voice is small and penitent. “Is that all?”

“Does there need to be more?” Castiel asks back, an empty chasm opening up inside him as unknown emotions play over Dean’s face. 

"Look, I get that you, for some reason care about me...Or us. Whatever. But that's not what this stupid magic needs. Right?" Castiel is amazed that even now, faced with such evidence, Dean is so completely blind. Maybe he'll actually go blind next. Castiel wouldn't mind it himself.

"I guess," Castiel says quietly.

"I guess there will be no breaking the curse then.” They all turn to Rowena, who Castiel had admittedly forgotten for a moment.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks, going tense. Er.

“We’re on the last test,” Rowena says, gesturing towards the boys. “You just made another declaration and your boys didn’t poof into a butter churn and a ham hock, that means there needs to be something more to get past the final challenge. Likely something physical.”

“What do you mean by physical?” Sam ask, looking very uncomfortable.

“Oh, calm down, Samuel, nothing so unseemly,” Rowena huffs. “This is a fairy tale curse. It takes a fairy tale cure.”

“As in…” Dean asks dubiously. Rowena leans towards Dean and flicks her finger against his head. “Ow!”

“True love’s kiss, you ninny.”

Dean makes an attempt to jump up from his seat which is somewhat impeded by the fact another human is attached to his midsection. “What? No…True…what?” Dean balks. “TWe just esptablished that there is NO true anything going one and that is…I mean…”

“Dean…” Castiel finds himself saying, half apology, half entreaty.

“No, this is stupid. I’m getting a chainsaw and fixing this the old-fashioned way,” Dean goes on but Sam is still stronger, and heavier and prevents him from running.

“Dean, calm down,” Sam entreats.

“No, she said it won’t work. It can’t because for it to be…what she said…” Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean’s inability to even spit out the words. “Cas doesn’t feel that way so we’re screwed okay!”

“What?” Rowena, Sam and Castiel all ask at once, everyone looking to Dean in complete confusion.

“You…he just said!” Dean sputters. “Why would he feel that?”

“Dean, what are you trying to say here?” Castiel asks carefully as Dean’s face grows redder.

“I’m not…saying…You said…” Dean stammers.

Rowena rolls her eyes and sighs. “For heaven’s sake, literally. We do not have time for this.”

“No, I-” Dean stammer.

“ _Veritas Parlarium Solem_!” A flash of red magic hits Dean square in the face.

“I am in love with Cas!”

Castiel has no idea why, but he hears something shatter in the distance. “You…what?”

“I’m in love with you, idiot!” Dean spits.

“Fucking finally,” Sam mutters beside him. “Do you have any idea how long I have been waiting for him to say that?”

“A long while, I imagine,” Rowena says as Dean does his best impression of a fish.

“I…I don’t understand,” Castiel says, sincerely wondering if this is another spell or a dream. “You never said anything. After Ramiel…After I died you never…”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been telling you for years!” Dean balks. “I’ve been begging you to just fucking stay with me since before you went and swallowed purgatory and then after you came back and, fuck, when you were human I wanted to so bad but there was Gadreel thing and then after all that crap with the Darkness I tried so hard to make you stay and you just…”

“Rowena can you tell if I’ve been put under a spell to forget things, because I don’t recall any of this,” Castiel says slowly.

“Are toy fucking kidding? I said I needed you!” Dean squawks and Sam falls back with a dramatic sigh, dragging Dean with him.

“That is not the same as telling him you love him, you moron,” Sam groans. “And you know it!”

“Well, he doesn’t feel the same way so there’s no point okay!” Dean snaps back and makes a mighty effort to dramatically turn away and cross his arms.

Castiel stands and walks to Dean, touching his arm so he’ll look at him.

“Dean Winchester, every time I’ve ever left…It’s been because I was trying to protect you or be worthy of you,” Castiel explains slowly.

“And because you didn’t want to stay with someone like me. Yeah I get it,” Dean argues, and it breaks Castiel’s heart to know that this is something Dean absolutely believes to be true, thanks to Rowena’s little trick.

“No, because I love you. I have always loved you.” Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve told you this and you…you didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got some massive self-esteem issues so it's tough for me to believe anyone would love me so I convinced myself you meant, like, just as family or something and _man I do not like this spell!_ ” Dean exclaims.

“So you know that you’re being an idiot about this?” Castiel asks. He appreciates that encouraging look that Sam sends him.

“I’m getting that impression, yeah,” Dean mutters. “But if you…feel that way, you really shouldn’t because I am not worth you at all. You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever known and…”

“Oh my god, just kiss him, please,” Sam orders and Castiel thinks that’s the best idea Sam has had all day.

Kissing Dean while he’s attached to Sam is certainly not the optimal way Castiel would have imagined this moment, but really, it’s not of great consequence. The world around them disappears when their lips meet. It’s cliché to say so, but it’s true. It’s nothing like any of the few kisses he’s experienced, or anything else in his long existence. It’s warm and welcoming and every bit like coming home. Except it’s explosive.

Quite literally.

It must be the conclusion of the curse, because the explosion this time is twice as loud and powerful as the others and throws Castiel roughly into a bookshelf, the volumes toppling on top of him. He hears yelps and groans from the others as he struggles to right himself.

“Dean? Sam?”

“I’m good. And I think I'm all me and just me, thank fuck.” Castiel watches as Dean stands, swatting away a cloud of purple smoke. He’s no longer attached to Sam, which is a relief. The looming, monstrous figure behind him, not so much.

“Dean!” Castiel yells. Dean spins just in time for the creature to plunge a spectral hand directly into his chest.


	5. Shot Through the Heart

“No!” Castiel yells at the same time as Sam cries out and Rowena begins to chant in Gaelic. Castiel acts on complete instinct, raising his hand as a rush of graces emanates from his palm and blasts the creature. Its screams reverberate through the library as it hits the wall, tendrils of purple smoke and slime wafting from it like it’s suspended in water.

“ _Seòrsa siùrsach_!” the thing screams in Gaelic and launches itself towards Castiel.

“Cas! No!” Dean yells and Castiel savors a moment of relief to know that Dean is intact and alive before the shade plunges a spectral hand into his own chest. Castiel gasps as claws of magic dig into his heart, squeezing and sending pain through his entire body and grace.

“ _Tha thu a dhol taibhse!”_ Rowena cries from somewhere and the shade torn away from Castiel, trapped by ropes of red magic flowing from Rowena’s palms. Castiel collapses to his knees and in an instant Dean is beside him, helping him back to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks, trying to catch his breath.

“Was going to ask you the same thing,” Dean replies, still holding on to Castiel’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Castiel mutters, eyes unconsciously drifting to the lips he had been kissing a few seconds before.

“Good, that’s…I’m good too…” Dean meets his eyes and smiles, utterly beautiful.

An unearthly scream from the creature Rowena is still holding at bays startles them back to the moment.

“Boys! If you don’t mind!” Rowena calls as the thing struggles within its glowing bonds. “Selene here does not seem to be pleased with this outcome.”

“How do we kill her?” Sam cries, grabbing a sword that's fallen to the ground.

“She’s part of the curse, we have to fully break it to get rid of her,” Rowena explains, sounding surprisingly nonchalant for someone working complicated magic.

“How do we—” Castiel begins just as Selene gives another howl and Dean buckles over, clutching his chest. “Dean—AH!” Sharp, crushing pain shoots through Castiel, centered in the vicinity of his heart.

 _“Dearbhadh air gràdh no bàs_!” Selene screams and then dissolves into wisps of purple smoke and light that go skittering in a dozen directions. Dean clutches onto Castiel’s arm and the pain in his chest disappears. He tries to catch his breath as beside him Dean does the same.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean gasps, clutching at his chest.

“Well, it seems that bit about a blessing or painful death was…mistranslated,” Rowena says, looking between Dean and Castiel.

"Ya think?!" Dean snaps.

"Meaning what?" Castiel asks.

“Meaning you must either accept her blessing quickly, or suffer a very painful death.” Rowena grimaces and shrugs.

“Oh, she…" Sam says, eyes going wide as he understands something still eluding Dean and Castiel. "Oh yikes."

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says. He's not sure he wants to given Sam's expression.

Rowena sighs. “You have to bump some bits or your hearts will be magically crushed out of your chest.” 

If Castiel has any doubt that Rowena’s truth spell is still working on Dean, the fact he seems to be valiantly fighting the urge to speak confirms it. Dean’s lips are pursed and he’s breathing hard through his nose. He lets go of Dean’s arms, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. He can imagine any myriad of things Dean might be holding back.

“That’s very…crude,” Castiel says. “Are you—” Castiel gasps at another stab of pain in his heart, somehow more powerful than the last. Dean cries out as well and Castiel reaches out to support him as he doubles over. The moment he touches Dean, the pain abates. “Oh no.”

“Oh fuck,” Dean agrees, looking at Castiel with wide eyes.

“It seems as if you must,” Rowena chirps. Both Dean and Castiel glare at her, but don’t argue.

“Come on, this way,” Dean orders and drags Castiel with him from the library. “And if anyone tries to interrupt us again I will shoot you! And you know I'm not lying!” he bellows over his shoulder.

“Dean, we should probably talk about this,” Castiel protests as Dean pulls him into his room and shuts the door, all without letting go of his hand.

“No. That is the opposite of what we need to do." He lets go of Castiel just long enough to pull off his shirt and the pain returns, hot and suffocating until Dean kisses him.

It’s not just the relief from the pain that makes Castiel melt into the kiss, though that _is_ a benefit. Dean’s mouth fits perfectly with his, lips warm and seeking. Dean’s hands find Castiel’s cheeks and hair touching him with more care than Castiel can ever recall feeling. Given the length of his life, that’s either a sad commentary or the highest praise. Or both. Dean keeps kissing him, careful not to break contact as he unbuttons Castiel’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders. Castiel only breaks away once Dean’s palms find his bare skin, still gentle.

“Dean, are you sure we should—”

“In a not dying way, yeah. In a good for us way? No, not at all,” Dean says, even as he starts kissing at Castiel’s neck and undoing his belt.

“Then why are you doing this?” Castiel has to fight hard to keep his concertation thanks to the hot slide of Dean’s tongue up his throat and the graze of his teeth against his jaw. Arousal and want are already simmering in his veins and it takes all his control of his vessel not to let his lust take over. He pulls Dean against him so that their bare chests are flush and cups the hunter’s face in his hand. “Dean, please.”

“What do you want me to say? I have thought about this, a lot,” Dean says, breathless, placing his own hand over Castiel’s. “Not like I ever thought I’d get the balls to tell you or that you’d ever want me back.”

“I’ve always wanted you back,” Castiel whispers. “But I thought you…”

“I was an idiot. I’ve been in love with you for a long fucking time and I never said anything because…Fuck I do not like this spell!” Dean scrunches his eyes closed and bumps his forehead against Castiel’s.

“Is there still pain?” Castiel asks, concern rising. “It must be worse for you, as a human.”

“No, not the dying thing, the truth thing,” Dean says, looking up again. “Though the dying thing sucks and, it does kinda, still smart.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to talk,” Castiel says, punctuating the declaration with a kiss.

Dean pulls away. “I wanna talk though.” Dean looks surprised to hear himself say it then relaxes. “I want to tell you all the stupid corny things I keep to myself because maybe now you actually wanna hear ‘em and I want to tell you all the things I want you to do to me and that I want to do to you. Like I said I’ve been thinking about getting you naked for a long fucking time.”

Castiel smiles, half to himself, and runs his hands over Dean chest and back. “I’ve never had specific…wishes for the first time being intimate with you,” Castiel says. “All that matters to me is that I’m with you at all.”

“Yeah well, this is not how I wanted this to go. I swear.” Dean gives a weak smile. “I would rather be a normal idiot and work up to this but, fuck, Cas…I can’t watch you die again.”

Castiel isn’t sure if the tightness in his chest is the spell or a surge of love, either way kissing Dean again seems to be the correct response. They kiss for what feels like an hour, learning the way their mouth work together. Castiel savors the plump heat of Dean’s lips and the scrape of his stubble and the smell of him – leather and spice and perhaps the barest hint of tuna, a detail which he will keep to himself. Too soon tough the pressure in his chest returns and Dean gives a whimper that sounds closer to pain than pleasure.

“Guess that bitch wants us to get the show on the road,” Dean says with a shaky laugh.

“It would seem so.” Castiel rolls his lips together. “Are you nervous?"

“Of course I’m fucking nervous,” Dean snaps. “There’s been a lot of build up to this. I don’t want to let you down or something.”

“You could never.” Castiel can feel the swell of Dean’s erection through his slacks and he gives an experimental roll of his hip. Dean’s eyes fall closed and the pain abates. “Is that good?”

“Fuck, yes it’s good.” Castiel repeats the motion and savors the tremors of pleasure it sends through his own body and grace. Even so Dean still seems hesitant and a pang of discomfort in Castiel’s chest reminds him why that is not acceptable.

“Tell me, how did you imagine this,” Castiel says, low and stern. He likes the way Dean’s cheeks redden and his eyes spring wide at the question. They go even wider as Castiel’s hand slips between them, trailing over the slight outward curve of Dean’s stomach to the edge of his jeans.

“Well, I figured I’d be the one taking the lead and—” Dean’s breath hitches as Castiel pops open the top button of his jeans. “That I’d be showing you the ropes.”

“You do realize that I have a subatomic understanding of human bodies,” Castiel replies, carefully pulling down Dean’s zipper. Dean’s breath shakes and Castiel licks his lips. “Your body in particular.”

“Yeah, I…I get that.” Dean’s voice is strained, but in a good way.

“Do you?” Castiel looks at Dean and raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck Cas, I thought the point here was to not kill me.” Castiel responds by lifting Dean bodily and carrying him the few feet to his bed. “Oh Jesus Christ, that is hot.”

“Tell me, what else do you like, Dean?” Castiel asks as he starts kissing at Dean’s shoulder and neck.

“Nipples. I…I like my nipple played with,” Dean says, breathless.

“Hm.” Castiel kisses down Dean’s chest and gives and experimental lick to one taught bud and Dean shudders. He runs his thumb over the other and that earns himself another tremor and a moan. Very promising result. He sucks in the nipple at his lips then gives it the barest hint of pressure from his teeth and Dean all but keens.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, fuck.” Dean continues to babble and writhe as Castiel lavishes attention on one nipple, then the next. When he finally relents Dean is breathing hard and barely notices when Castiel starts pulling off his jeans. It would seem Rowena did not include underwear in the clothes she magicked for the Winchesters so nothing holds back Dean’s cock as it springs free. He’s gloriously hard, flushed and curving towards his belly with precome already leaking from the tip.

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel whispers, careful to keep a hand on Dean’s freckled thigh as he pulls his pants fully off.

“Shut up or you’re gonna make me reevaluate my self-worth issues.” Dean claps his hand over his mouth as Castiel trails light kisses up his leg.

“I don’t know why you don’t like this spell, but I’m personally enjoying it,” Castiel grins and Dean glares down at him.

“Okay, time for you to get naked too, because this shit isn’t fair.”

“I’ve been looking at you naked all day,” Castiel says. He nibbles at Dean’s inner thigh and Dean whimpers. "You didn't ask then."

“It…does not count when I’m wearing fur or my brother and I really, _really_ don’t want to talk about that right now.” Castiel draws up, unable to control his smile. “And I still wanted to see you naked because the fact I haven't had a chance to appreciate your ass is a fucking crime. Now get your fucking pants off and fuck me, you smug asshole.”

“Help me. It will be difficult, since we can’t stop touching.” Dean huffs and Castiel springs up the bed. The defiance flees Dean’s face and his mouth hangs open is shock. “Dean, kiss me and don’t stop until you’ve removed these slacks for me.”

“Fuck that is such a turn on. Fuck….” Dean whispers before obeying. He kisses Castiel messily, chasing his lips as he struggles to undo Castiel’s belt and zipper. The pain is edging back into Castiel’s chest but it eases when his clothes are finally gone and he presses his entire naked body against Dean's. Their cocks are trapped together between their bellies, hot and leaking. Dean is the first to move, seeking friction and nudging Castiel into just the right spot so that they slide together perfectly. For the first time, pleasure overwhelms his senses and Castiel lets out a moan to match  the sounds has already started making Dean. He finds Dean’s mouth and kisses him desperately as they grind together, but the pain returns again.

“Now what was it you said you wanted next?” Castiel asks, licking at Dean’s ear. Dean shivers and Castiel feels goosebumps erupt under his palms on Dean’s arm.

“I said I wanted you to fuck me,” Dean replies, breathy and wrecked. Castiel draws back, running a thumb over Dean’s lips and searching his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Dean heaves a shaking breath and nods. “Truth spell, remember?”

“I will need more detail,” Castiel murmurs, giving another roll of his hips against Dean, who grabs his ass in response. “I want to know exactly how you’d like me to fuck you.”

“Holy shit,” Dean whispers. “Okay. Fuck. I want you to open me up with your mouth on my cock then I want to watch you fuck me into next week and come inside me.”

“That plan is acceptable.”

“And I want you to like it so much you stop talking like a goddamn professor for once in your life,” Dean snaps. Castiel bites his shoulder and grinds against him again to show how he feels about that. “Or not. You know. Whatever. Just get inside me.”

“Lubricant?” Castiel ask, bemused.

“Drawer on your side of the bed.” Castiel draws back, interest overriding lust for a second. “Okay, yeah. I leave a side for you. I have for years and when all this shit is over you’re going to use it and we may fuck this up but we’ll fuck it up together and _oh my god is it too late to shoot Rowena_.” Dean’s eyes are screwed shut but Castiel coaxes them open with a kiss to his temple.

“Dean?” Dean’s eyes are bright and pleading and perfect. “Which side is mine?”

“Left,” Dean says softly.

“Thank you.”

Retrieving the bottle of astroglide from the nightstand drawer is no easy feat considering that drawing apart while still touching hurts now. Dean sighs in relief when Castiel moves between his legs. The sigh melts into a low moan of pleasure when Castiel’s lips wrap around Dean's cock.

It’s strange, to finally be here after imagining it so many time. However vast his consciousness, Castiel had envisioned this moment only vaguely, never really considered what it would feel like to taste Dean on his tongue or how his girth might stretch his lips. He’s warm and the skin softer than Castiel imagined but he’s also smooth and tastes of sweat and musk and want. His own cock gives a twitch, hard and neglected where is hangs between his legs, but there will be time to address that later. Now all that matters is how Dean shudders and pants as Castiel licks and sucks at the crown of his cock before swallowing him down.

“Okay, angels don’t have gag reflexes, that is _awesome_ ,” Dean says above him and Castiel briefly considers swatting his ass for being so ridiculous, but instead he flexes his throat and Dean nearly bucks off the bed. Castiel holds him down by the hips and draws off, giving the tip one more lick before moving his attention to Dean sac. He’s careful as he mouths at his balls as he runs a finger down Dean’s perineum. Even the slight touch makes Dean go tense. “Fuck, It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” Dean mutters. "And fuck, no one's supposed to know that."

“It’s alright, Dean, I’ll take care of you.” Castiel kisses Dean's thighs then his licks cock as he circles his hole with the tip of his finger. “Tell me what feels good.”

“Your mouth…” Dean breathes and Castiel happily licks up his cock. “No, on my…” Castiel understands and pushes Deans legs further apart and up. The sound Dean makes when Castiel adds his tongue beside his finger at Dean’s rim is possibly the most fantastic thing he’s ever heard. “Yes. That. Fuck. Good.” Castiel licks and prods at the coiled muscle, noting each tremble and gasp from Dean. Slowly he starts to relax and finally Castiel is able to slip a spit-slick finger past, just to the knuckle. He teases the rim with his tongue for a few moments more before pushing in further. “God…fuck that’s…need more.”

Castiel pulls back, the pain in his chest flaring as he gropes to open the lube. Dean looks surprised that he knows what he’s doing but too overwhelmed to comment. Castiel squeezes a liberal amount onto his fingers and returns to work. The taste and feel of Dean’s cock in his mouth is swiftly becoming one of his favorite sensations on the physical plane. Or any plane really. Though his grace is weak he can feel the way the pleasure makes Dean’s soul hum and glow and it’s marvelous. One finger slides in easily as Castiel continues to lavish attention on Dean’s cock with his mouth. Dean keeps up a low, beautiful murmur of praise and pleas until Castiel carefully adds a second finger and the words dissolve into an outright wail. Castiel concentrates, taking Dean’s cock all the way in again and crooking his fingers just so to find Dean’s prostate as he swallows around him. Dean comes with a yell, pounding a hand against the headboard and thrusting off the bed. Castiel swallows down each drop of bitter spend, coaxing Dean through the aftershocks.

“Cas, what are you…ohhhh….” Dean groans as Cas easily adds a third finger now. He’s relaxed but still responsive and it’s utterly perfect. Castiel pumps his fingers, even adding a fourth just for good measure and Dean takes it with quiet sighs of pleasure. The pressure tightens again in Castiel’s chest and he sees Dean winces as well.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes…fuck…want you inside of me yesterday…please…” Dean babbles. Castiel wastes no time slicking up his cock and lining himself up. Dean’s heavy-lidded eyes fly open as the head of his cock nudges at Dean’s rim. “Please,” Dean whispers again and Castiel slides home.

“Fuck…” Cas moans. It seems Dean may be granted his wish regarding Castiel’s capability to form complex sentences, or maybe any thought at all. It’s better than anything he’s ever imagined, tight and hot and perfect and _Dean_.

“It’s even better when you move,” Dean coos as he wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist and cants up for emphasis.

Castiel thinks Dean may know what he’s talking about. He draws back slowly, enjoying the sensation and friction as well as the play of pleasure on Dean’s face. He thrusts back in to the hilt with a grunt and Dean gasps.

“Fuck you feel so good. Wish I could come again for you…What the?!” Dean exclaims as Castiel sends a pulse of grace through him and his soft cock immediately begins to harden again.

“There are many advantages to angels,” Castiel smirks.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Castiel is happy to obey. He goes slow at first, just savoring the heat and the overwhelming feel of Dean all around him, but the pain of the curse isn’t sated. Maybe this isn’t enough. Maybe Rowena lied or the parameters have changed again. If so, at least there’s no other way he’d rather die. He speeds up, desperately fucking into Dean as he chases something right at the edge of all the sensation.

“Dean, I’m…I’m close…” He opens his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them and looks down into Dean’s perfect face.

“Come. Come in me. Please, wanna feel you.” Dean pants. “Please. Cas…Ah!” That’s not a cry of pleasure. Just as it must be doing for Dean, the pain around Castiel’s heart tightens its grip while at the same time something glowing and warm surges under it. “Cas…please. Can’t lose you. I love you.”

Castiel comes, sudden and hard and he feels Dean convulse as he cries out. The lights around them surge bright and burst and he sees a flash of grace reflected in Dean’s eyes. At the same time one final burst of purple magic pulse out from them and disappears with a whoosh like a contented sigh, the curse finally satisfied. The vice around his heart is gone and nothing is left but pleasure and warmth and the heartbeat of the man he loves slowing in time with him in the darkness.

"Guess that did it," Dean whispers breathlessly against Castiel's lips.

"I guess so."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

 

 

 

They leave Dean’s room only for lightbulbs after a few hours rest. It turns out that Castiel’s healing powers do not extend to electronics and Dean needs something more than tuna to fuel him if they’re going to, in his words, “go for round four.”

“Now, I wanna be clear that that was really fucking good sex,” Dean expounds as they make their way to the kitchen. Castiel smiles in wry amusement, wondering if Dean is hoping Sam will hear and be scarred or if he’s forgotten his brother’s existence. “But it was curse sex, so for science I think it’s really important we have more to you know, see the difference.”

“For science,” Castiel repeats, watching from the door of the kitchen as Dean heads for the refrigerator.

“Also we’ve got a lot of years of having our heads stuck in our asses to make up for,” Dean shrugs. He’s wearing just a shirt and sweats and it’s far too much clothing.

“Yes, of course," Castiel murmurs as he watches Dean move.

“Are you looking at my ass?”

Castiel looks up (from said ass) to see Dean staring at him over his shoulder. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Hell no,” Dean grins. “And I am definitely hiding that stupid coat so I can look at yours all the time too.”

“Seems like the truth spell is still in effect,” Castiel says with a smile as Dean turns his attention back to the fridge.

“I’d have said that no matter what,” Dean huffs. “Now what have we got? Some sausage, something that might have been cheese a while back – ew, Milk. Ooo, kale.”

“You like kale?” Castiel asks in shock.

“It’s not so bad with the right dressing.” Dean claps his hand over his mouth and spins to Castiel in horror.

“The spell is definitely still in effect.”

“Rowena!” Dean yells. “Where the fuck is she? And where the hell is Sam?”

“We were quite loud, they may have left to give us privacy,” Castiel muses and Dean’s cheeks flush pink.

“We weren’t _that_ loud,” Dean mutters. “Were we?”

“Oh, you were.” They turn to see Rowena standing in the kitchen door, hair loose and wearing a standard issue Men of Letters robe. “Are we having a wee bite? Excellent. I'm famished.”

“Why are you wearing that?” Dean asks.

“Were you sleeping?” Cas inquires as well.

“Some, after all that exertion," Rowena answers with a sly smile.

“Exertion?” Cas echoes.

“Oh no,” Dean says at the same time. A second later, Sam rushes in, sliding into the frame of the kitchen door with a look of panic on his face. And wearing only boxers. “Sammy, tell me you didn’t…”

“I was under the spell too, okay!" Sam crows. "And we didn’t know if the whole sex or death thing applied to me too and so Rowena suggested…”

“Oh dear,” Castiel whispers, understanding.

“I just wanted to assure dear Samuel’s safety,” Rowena smiles. “And may I say, that curse may be gone but he is still an _animal_.”

“Oh dear God,” Dean groans. 

“It was totally consensual and she was, uh…” Sam stammers, looking at Rowena then blushing deeply and suppressing a smile.

“I told you, a woman of experience has much to offer,” Rowena smirks.

“Rowena, please tell me there’s a spell to make me forget you ever said that,” Dean says, looking at the ceiling.

“There is, but you wouldn’t like the where we’d have to get the organs required to make it work,” Rowena chirps. “Now, I gather that you two worked everything out.”

“Yes, we satisfied the curse,” Castiel replies distractedly as Rowena hands him a cup of tea from nowhere.

“Yeah, Cas blew my mind and the lightbulbs,” Dean grins, sending Sam a look equal parts lascivious and vindictive.

“Ew, Dean,” Sam grimaces. “Hearing you through the walls was bad enough.”

“Yeah, well, turns out my boyfriend is a sex god who is really good with his tongue, sorry.” Dean winces. “Rowena, can you fix this truth spell thing, please.”

“Only if your boyfriend doesn’t have anything else he needs to get out of you.”

Castiel watches as Dean purses his lips and Sam laughs.

“Since you’re not arguing, I guess that means you really are his boyfriend,” Sam says.

Castiel catches Dean’s eye and smiles. “I’m agreeable to that.”

“Good. Your boyfriend is the best thing I’ve been all damn day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please [come say hi to me on tumblr](http://ibelieveinthelittletreetopper.tumblr.com/) anytime and check out my other fics!


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